


Only for You

by faikitty



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2512934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faikitty/pseuds/faikitty





	Only for You

Ja’far has been in enough battles to have the basics down by now. He should be past the point of stupid, costly mistakes.

But he isn’t.

He and Sinbad fight side by side, cornered off just outside the main surge of fighting by an elite group of enemy soldiers. Sinbad cracks his shoulders, a grin landing on his face as he takes in the supposed best of the best that have been sent to kill him specifically. Ja’far rolls his eyes at his king’s fighting smirk. The roar of battle a number of yards away sounds in his ears and his fingers tighten around his blades and string. Sinbad steps forward at the same time as him, and their enemies copy their steps to meet them in a clash of metal.

Ja’far kills the first three easily, all of whom mistake his small form for weakness. When he hears Sinbad grunt behind him, he tosses back a blade without needing to look; he feels it come into contact with Sinbad’s opponent’s skull and rips it out.

A flash in the corner of his eye makes him pivot, almost too slowly to block the blade that appears at his throat. He meets the eyes of a woman who has ones like his, eyes that have seen murder and been the cause of it too many times. He kicks her away and they engage in what would surely look like a dance to an outsider, both dodging the other’s blows while simultaneously attempting to cast ones of their own.

Sinbad appears in his vision suddenly, tangling with an opponent a few feet away who has pushed him back. Ja’far throws a knife that lands in that enemy’s ankle.

The movement buys Sinbad time to kill the other man. Ja’far is the one who pays the price.

The woman soldier’s blade whips by him, almost too fast to see, and he feels a sudden agonizing pain through his body that seems to be radiating from his side. He can’t tell exactly; the agony feels as if it’s coursing through his bloodstream. He thrusts out with his own blades, drawing them back and throwing them out methodically even as he’s half-blind with pain. One finally hits its mark. He leaps forward, uses the string to guide him, and rips the blade from the enemy’s stomach when he reaches her. It sinks into her neck next, severing her jugular completely and leaving her to sink to the ground with those eyes that are so like his full of shock.

Ja’far mirrors the movement. He tells himself it’s only to catch his breath and to get rid of the bright lights flashing in front of his eyes, but the incessant throbbing in his abdomen says otherwise.

Sinbad slices open the final man’s throat and turns to face Ja’far. “You ever going to get up?” he teases as he walks toward him. Sinbad offers a hand to Ja’far, who swallows hard and takes it, letting himself be pulled up by the older man.

" You saved me back there. Thanks. Now we need to get back to the fighting. A king can’t stand by and let his people be killed." Sinbad absentmindedly cleans blood from his sword as he talks. He gives Ja’far a curious look when he gets no response, and then his eyes widen. "Shit, are you bleeding!?"

Ja’far shakes his head roughly but falls to his knees as his vision blurs. “I’m fine,” he mutters. “I’m barely injured.” He tries to shake off Sinbad as he rushes toward him and lowers him to the ground, pushing feebly against arms that won’t release him.

"There’s no medical equipment here. I need to get you someplace safe," Sinbad says breathlessly, adjusting his armor and weapons so as to better carry the wounded man, but this time Ja’far is successful in pushing him away.

"I can patch myself up. I’ve done it before. I have a needle and string." He leaves out the fact that he can’t sew together the internal organs punctured by the weapon, the same internal organs that are causing him to bleed out. Sewing together his skin and leaving the blood to gather in his abdominal cavity isn’t going to be any help. That isn’t something Sinbad needs to know.

But looking up at the other man, the same man who is shaking his head in denial and pressing desperate fingers against the bloody hole in his side, Ja’far is forced to realize that he surely already knows.

Ja’far’s fingers tremble as he sets them on Sinbad’s, stilling his futile movements. “Your men need you,” he murmurs.

“ _You_  need me,” Sinbad replies, voice equal parts anger and sadness. “I can get you to the medical tent. They’ll take care of you.”

Ja’far looks at him in disbelief, and Sinbad is forced to turn his gaze to the ground. “You would abandon your country? Then you are not fit to be king.”

Sinbad’s eyes snap back to Ja’far’s, fierce now. “You know I would never abandon Sindria.” His brows are knit together and he speaks through clenched teeth at the insult.

"Then go. More men die as you stand here talking to me." His expression softens at the look of forced bitter acceptance on Sinbad’s face. "I’m okay. Don’t worry about me." Ja’far’s attempt at reassurance is all but ruined by the shakiness of his voice. Sinbad still lingers; Ja’far tries to yell at him but fails as a cough racks his body, leaving him with the sensation of drowning. Blood splatters on dry ground, no longer only from the wound in his abdomen. He wipes crimson from his lips and pretends he can’t see the look of despair on Sinbad’s face when he meets his king’s eyes.

It comes to a choice now. They both know it.

“ _Go_ ,” Ja’far repeats, voice stronger now from nothing but willpower. “If you don’t, I’ll never forgive you.” He watches through glassed over eyes as Sinbad’s hands clench, jaw working as he’s forced to make a decision: his lover or his country.

"I  _will_  be back for you,” Sinbad growls. He kneels and kisses Ja’far as hard as he dares, ignoring the blood that darkens his lips. Ja’far wheezes as he’s let go, tries to force air back into lungs that are growing increasingly too tired to inflate. He doesn’t try to speak again, just motions roughly with his head.

Sinbad takes a few steps and then pauses. “I love you,” he murmurs, and the pain in his voice makes Ja’far’s heart feel like it’s breaking. The king takes off then, leaving Ja’far behind. The ex-assassin watches as Sinbad rallies his men, turning the swell of the battle in their favor. He smiles in spite of himself at the sight.

Ja’far blinks away tears that he blames on the pain and coughs again, weaker this time. There’s a numbness and a tingling in his extremities that doesn’t help with the black that keeps washing over his vision. He feels as if letting his attention flicker for a split second will cause his limbs to be crushed beneath gravity’s weight. He almost thinks it would be okay for that to happen. His gaze drifts upwards as he lets himself relax, eyes fixed on the blue sky and bright sun, and slowly, he closes them as his strength fades.

"I love you too."


End file.
